We roll round in a froth of lace,
Legs entwined, pulling hair,
You bite my shoulder, I scratch your face
It's female war and I don't care!
But in this battle of teeth and nails -
Our arms and legs going like flails -
The oddity is the feminine perfume
That floats above the conflict, the squeals
and choked breath, yes all round the room,
Woman rage out of control, it feels
Primeval, cruel, strong, yet beautiful
Like your breasts, obvious, thrusting
Against my own, the more bountiful.
But greedy fingers squeeze unlusting
And mark the soft white globes, once trusting
to a lover's caress which here is not.
We cling together, ah yes, lover-like,
But nipping teeth and raking claws,
Stabbing kicks, swinging slaps, they all incite
Retaliation in massive degree which draws
The climax of a hair and clothes-tearing frenzy,
Which if our man could see would have him cheering.
We'll fight again, you and I, this combat heats the blood
And I'll take you down again Kathleen to see who gets the stud.
In our disheveled states are we not endearing?
Clothes, skin and hair tell of our female brawling,
The wonder is that men find it so enthralling.
Publishing by the author's permission